18 » Narry AU

F I V E // Stockholm Syndrome (N.H)

Niall's POV

I moaned from the sunlight bathing my skin as I lay on my side. I wondered how long I'd been sleeping. I yawned, managed to lazily open both eyes. My mind is fuzzy, the last remnants of a dream being chased away by the realization that I am awake again. It was a nice dream, something about sitting in a big oak tree in meadow full of flowers but the details are fading fast even as I try to recall them.

With a mental sigh I allow my brain to focus and cautiously open one eye. The bright spring sunlight cuts the room in half and I see dust-motes dancing in the wall of light. I pull the duvet up over my head to keep it out. It's not going to work, my brain is awake now and already worrying about why my body was so sore.

There is a moan of someone or something behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin. I cautiously turn around and suck in a breath. Laying there peacefully was Harry. His long Tarzan hair was sprayed out across the pillow as he snored softly. I smile faintly but groan as a sharp pain shoots up my spine, causing me to whimper pathetically. Harry nearly stirs, just turning himself around and that's when I see it.

Long and faintly red scratches ran up and down his back. Wow I couldn't believe Harry pulled someone on his birthday. I almost touch his back but it hits me with realization why my back must hurt so much.

"No," I mutter, getting out of the bed and hissing from the pain. My entire lower back was inflamed and I could barely move. I got up slowly just as Harry started mumbling random things to himself, but that was not of my concern. I picked up my boxers that lay on the ground near the door, in attempt to cover myself as I crab walked to the nearest bathroom.

That is where I saw the full damage. I had love bites scattered across my chest, hips and neck. Some were bright red and others were a faded purple. I touched one of them and although it didn't hurt, it really only meant one thing.

I was drunk and took advantage of Harry. My head was in such pain as I tried to remember how this could have happened. I remember drinking a Guinness and handing one over to Harry. Then my mind became completely blank. I slam my hands on the counter and let out a low growl. Why couldn't I ever recall memories when I get drunk?

I always had to go to Liam or Harry for whatever happened the previous. And there was no question what had happened between Harry and I last night. The question was, did he regret it or not?

I walked back into his room where he was still sleeping, cuddling a pillow that I had left in my place. He looked so calm and baby faced, I missed his baby face, honestly. I could still feel his arms wrapped around my waist as I had slept through the night.

I had felt completely safe in his arms, as I did in my childhood. I knew that Harry always told everyone that I was the energetic one in our friendship and rightfully so, Harry was the calm one and I was fuel of this fire most of the time. He grumbles in his sleep, and I realize how little time I have until he wakes up and then what? Ignore what obviously happened or confess to Harry that I could've possibly enjoyed it?

I can't deny that I thought that Harry was fit or that he was one of the main reasons why I wasn't on the dating scene. Harry was easily more popular with the guys and ladies when we went to bars but I was just the awkward stick that drank his weight in beer.

Maybe it was karma whenever I couldn't remember what happened. On my birthday, I might've lied to everyone that I didn't remember Harry putting me to bed, but that was only because I was embarrassed that he had done that. I wanted that memory all to myself and just relish in it whenever I felt lonely.

Harry was truly a gem and I would be lost without him.

"Oh Harry, look what you've done to me." I mutter, picking up my clothes and putting on a new pair of boxers, presumingly belonging to Harry. I head on out to the kitchen for some pain relievers and go against making him breakfast. I wanted to see how he took this, and/or he remembered anything.